


Equinox Sacrifice

by QuickSilverFox3



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - American Gods Fusion, American Gods Inspired, Angst, Gen, Godly Patrons, Prophecy, Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 09:52:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18247433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3
Summary: The equinox has come once again and the price must be paid to the Godly Patrons of the Sacred Twenty Eight. For International Wizarding School Championship Round Five.





	Equinox Sacrifice

A light breeze ruffled the grass, catching the loose dandelion seeds and sending them spiralling into the air in a slow lazy dance. Spring had arrived once more, the slow incline from the depths of winter, one more turn of the wheel. And so, it had been for millennia, the old year dying for the new to begin, a constant repeat of give and take.

The old ways were dying, slowly slipping into obscurity as their practitioners forgot the old ways, modernity blinding them to what they had forgotten. What had happened to the old gods, the ones who once ruled the world from their mountain top? The ones who would twist the world on a whim, plunge a mighty empire into the greatest war ever seen for the sake of a golden apple and the love of one beautiful woman. They moved, they adapted, they survived… but only just. It was a strange twist of fate that this once mighty pantheon was brought low by the one thing they hadn't suspected: Time. Time slipped by, sand through the hourglass, empires rose and fall, people migrated and changed, the Gods moving and changing with them.

And so, as spring arrived, the equinox approaching, preparations were made.

It was a strangely secretive affair for something that had once been a cause for celebration, a coming together of families to mingle, old grudges cast aside at the door under the watchful eyes of the gods, of moving forward into the new year and the surprises it would hold. This was not the case anymore. Glances were exchanged as the groups moved around Diagon Alley, baskets almost overflowing with fresh produce, green and vibrant, still glistening with water and the jars carefully wrapped in brown paper, contents hidden but known. The ritual was as familiar to them as breathing, a secret tattoo hidden just beneath the skin, a set of actions they could perform in their sleep, drummed into them again and again.

/\\\/

Sirius could remember the ritual stretching back in his memory for as long as he could remember, first alone but later with Regulus' hand held tightly in his. He could remember the taste of iron on his tongue, drawing him from his bed like a siren's call in the dead of night. Whether the moon was visible or not, it made no difference as he moved down the hallway, feet barely making a sound. Everything seemed muffled, his breathing loud and heavy in his ears, a Cerberus lingering just out of sight behind him. The skin crawled on the back of his neck, goose-bumps pebbling his arms and yet he continued into the darkness, tracing a fingertip along the wall. He would barely even notice when the dark wood panelling gave way to stone, cold and damp. The tunnels underneath the house would shift and mutate, a living network in constant motion, the floor rocking underneath his feet like the deck of a ship. And always so quiet, so, so quiet. He could wander beneath the house for what felt like hours, for what could have been years, wandering in this belly of the beast until finally he would stagger, cold and shaking into Her arms, like so many ancient Heroes had before him. He knew their names: Herakles and Ixion and so many more who had faded away with the passage of time. Her name was never spoken, whether in fear of Her eyes on them in the days after this springtime ritual, or if Her name didn't need to be spoken. She was the thing in the dark that dogged their footsteps, the thing they embraced eventually it was said. Her skin was sallow and sunken, once tanned and now pale from lack of light, unable to leave the Black House by Her own hubris many centuries ago. She would smooth the hair away from his clammy forehead, Her touch as cold as the grave.

Her eyes were like his, and that was most terrifying thought, large and dark and filled with some unknown emotion that caused Sirius' heart to twist in his chest. It was Her actions that caused his mother to decapitate the house elves, mounting their heads as tribute to Her, Her doing that caused Sirius' father to slip curses under the doorsteps, tuck hexes into the windowsills, his eyes wild and always muttering. It was Her who whispered in the ears of the Seers, those hidden at Delphi and those outside, Lovegood's eyes always lingering on him slightly too long in sympathy Sirius had thought he had escaped Her, had not travelled to see Her on the equinox, hidden under the duvet in the Potter house, pale and sweating. She did not travel to see him. Later he realised She had never needed to. He was a Black, and so he was Hers. On that night, November 1st, 1981, Sirius' heart filled with grief and rage at the deaths of his friends, Peter had blasted half the street to bit, the knife that cut off his finger a flash of silver before he vanished down into the sewer, and Sirius had seen Her. She stood where Wormtail had been, Her eyes fixed on him. She hadn't need to speak to say what Sirius knew now. He was a Black, he was meant to descend into Her kingdom and so he began to laugh, the goddess Mania laughing with him, as the aurors arrived and the whisperings began to start:  _he's gone mad, well you know the Blacks they always do_.

/\\\/

Hannah Abbot knew her goddess was not well known, quietly slipping under the radar when She had once been venerated almost above all others. She had once been worshipped by every household in the known land, Her fires tiny pinpricks of light from atop Mount Olympus. But that was before, before the movement, before time stole everything from the Gods because of their own folly. They hadn't prepared for it, and so it was there downfall, thousands of fires downgraded to one. Hannah balanced the basket on her hip, cursory nods at her fellow shoppers, their eyes lingering on her own basket in knowing.  
"They once all gave me praise," She whispered in Hannah's ear, as She had whispered in her parent's ears and in her grandparent's, and in every member of her family before her, "You cannot imagine it sweet child. To have the most powerful men in the world, the great heroes of my time, bow before my altars. And I welcomed them all, I greeted Jason and Odysseus, I met Hector and Perseus."  
Hannah dodged a train of floating cases, her own basket bumping painfully against her hip, bruises littering her pale skin. She was a kind goddess, yes. But like them all, She demanded her own sacrifices. It was the way of the world, give and take, push and pull, the need only intensified as the equinox drew closer. And now, she was the only one left, battle hardened, and her heart scarred. But she would obey this tradition as she had always done, a sense of normalcy in a still turbulent world.

She had been a child when her family had last gotten together to complete this ritual, she knew that now. She had thought herself all grown up, practically an adult then with her new robes and her new wand, the shimmering green ink on her Hogwarts acceptance letter barely dry. Hannah had run into the house, mud caked on her shoes, face turned towards the clear blue sky, eyes tracking the progress of an unfamiliar barn owl. She had almost worn a hole in the floor, knees bouncing as she pulled the large flower from behind her ear, a few strands of blonde hair following it in her hurry, and she dropped it into the small altar tucked in an alcove to the side of the door. She had been so excited for her letter, barely even waiting long enough for the flower to catch alight before she was running off to the kitchen. An unfamiliar woman had been there that night, golden eyes sparkling in the candlelight as giant plates waltzed to and fro. The air around her was as sweet as honey, every dish pausing by her side first before it shuffled onto another family member.

It was just Hannah now, the once vibrant house worn and weathered by the passage of the years and more tragedy than she had thought possible. The altar glowed under her fingertips, basket carefully balanced between her ankles, as she stretched for the incense, lighting it with a thought. The flower she produced now was smaller, wilted and drooping even before she offered it to the tiny flame, pausing to bow her head, Her touch encircling her like an embrace.  
"Food for the weary, sweet child. Food for those in need," She whispered in Hannah's ear, compelling her towards the kitchen, basket now light in her arms, "Today is the equinox and we will feast."

/\\\/

Luna could see Them. Oh, They thought They were invisible, their own hubris returning to bite Them once more, Achilles heel punctured with a second arrow. The Gods had fallen once before, unknowing until the event was upon Them, belief ripped away from underneath Their feet, and They were unwilling to see that it was going to happen again. She hummed a small tune to herself, the music ancient to those who knew and yet the crowd surrounding her was deaf to it. Seers were always strange, He had told her, Luna's small hand held tightly in His as she rose from mire, head full of clouds and tongue heavy in her mouth, stained with the taste of copper. 'A seizure,' her father had said, holding her close, holding her tight enough that her very bones creaked in protest. 'A prophecy' He had replied, stretching out to trace a finger across Luna's eyes, the touch hot, His smile as blinding as the sun. He was with her now, face turned upwards towards the sun as it raced across the sky, a flower stretching upwards towards what was now lost. In the past, she would have been trapped in Delphi, another oracle for heroes to consult and try to defy her twisted words only to fall into the traps they had crafted with their own two hands. And He would have been with her every step of the way.

"Who is your favourite Hero?" He asked her, never looking her way and yet always knowing where she was.  
"Achilles," she answered, feeling the remembered weight of a spear in her hand, a helmet pressed tight on her head and yet knowing it wasn't needed. He laughed at this, a sound that seared the very ground they stood on, grass shrivelling up and dying. Luna remained still and silent, staring out over the fields, the very air seeming in to shiver in a heatwave as she gazed into the future and Saw. She saw the fields fly through the seasons, colours blending together in all their hues, she saw buildings rise, huge skyscrapers towering over her head, and she saw them fall, collapsing into rubble.  
"I saw Us fall," He whispered into her ear, voice like a summer breeze rattling over a desert, "I saw Us fall and I said nothing. It was of Our own doing, We were too high, too strong. Achilles was the same, he thought he could be happy with my words hovering over his head, the words of my Oracles. His mother knew this, poor Thetis trying so hard to keep her son safe despite knowing he could not escape his fate."  
Luna looked and saw the battlefield, heard the screams of dying men, the caws of the crows. She saw one man, his armour shining bright, a beacon of light and hope. She saw him fall.  
"Hector killed Patroclus. So, Achilles killed Hector, knowing it would bring about his fate as I predicted."  
The scream rattled her bones, a man, his face unknown to her and yet she knew him, knelt over the man in armour, his helmet cast aside. Tears streamed down his face as he held the dead man and he looked at her, looked at the god standing next to her.  
"Immortal except for his heel," Luna whispered, seeing the arrow plunge into the man's skin, saw his face twist and she saw him fall.  
"My prophecies speak the truth. Delphi's gifts came from me. And so, do yours."  
Luna blinked. She twisted her head and looked into the face of Apollo, squinting slightly as He burned her eyes.  
"You are young," said Apollo, "Your mother will come for you soon for the celebration. But remember my prophecies speak the truth. There is no running from this."

No-one else had contact with their patron outside of the equinox, the shifting of the seasons seeming to weaken the barrier and allow them to emerge, butterflies from the cocoon to the families benefit or detriment. Apollo never left Luna, His words burning in her ears, guiding her steps.  
"There is a boy who will sit with you, scarred and battle worn already but he is destined for death. He will need your support," Apollo had whispered into her ears as she entered the train, earrings bumping slightly uncomfortable against her neck, Quibbler clutched in sweaty hands. She glanced at him, eyes covered by the Spectrespecs and the flash of white teeth as he grinned a predatory smile. His words were not wrong, always containing a sliver of truth even as he delivered them wrapped in darkness and seemingly inescapable.

"You remember the last equinox?" He whispered and between one blink and the next, a shadow of butterfly wings drifting over her eyes, Luna was in the sitting room of her house, a memory so lifelike it felt real. Her feet moved almost without her say so, stumbling slightly as she turned, her movements as jerky as a marionette.  
" _You are the next?_ "

Luna tried to move away from the voice but found her feet stuck to the floor. That wasn't the disembodied voice she was used to. He was the embodiment of summer, even at the equinox He conveyed the promise of warmer days to come even during the mist of rain and fog. This voice promised nothing, it was dry and rasping, a snake slithering into her ears even as she struggled reflexively.  
"Play nice."  
He was back, a wall of heat at her back as the shadows slipped by through the drawn curtains, moon shifting across the sky as began to reach its peak.  
" _She is a child,_ " the voice hissed back, shifting and splitting mid-word, a susurrus of voices lingering in the air.  
"She is my Oracle."  
Luna shifted backwards against Him, His calloused fingers encircling her upper arms to halt her movement. The air shimmered around them, heat ripping the breath from her lungs as she dug her heels into the floor, the last-ditch struggles of a cornered animal.

The sand stung her knees as He released her, Luna letting out a grunt as she hit the rocky ground. Her eyes watered as she squinted under the heavy relentless brightness of the sun, moon gone from the sky.  
"Come," He said, His feet almost seeming to skim the sound, a parody of walking except for the perfectly defined footprints which appeared, a trail to mark her way. Luna followed.  
"Kings would journey for many months to be here, heroes would seek my guidance, the peasants from the fields would come to ask. And they would receive an answer, they may not like it, or understand it, but a prophecy from the Oracle of Delphi they would receive. Even as they struggled to change their fate, they could never see the noose tightening around their neck, one forged by their own doing," He said, not looking behind at Luna but trusting she was following in his footsteps, Orpheus and Eurydice reborn.  
" _I am tired,_ " the voice groaned, seeming to come from just ahead and Luna saw the figure. She wasn't old, seeming to be the same age as Luna's mother in the pictures strung up around the house, but she was ancient, skin weathered and tanned, mouth hanging agape, limbs lolling at her side.  
" _You will be the new Oracle of Delphi. You will walk where I cannot and when the time comes I will awaken once more once your bones are cold in the grave and a descendent of yours will be chosen,"_  the Oracle whispered, words practiced and almost chant like from years of repetition.  
Luna nodded in understanding, lightning fizzing in her veins and before she knew it, her Dad had scooped her up from the floor, sunlight streaming into the sitting room and her face was glittering with sand and sweat.

Luna shook her head, dislodging the memory as she moved forward onto the train, the weight of prophecies unspoken bubbling in her head and Apollo watching her go.


End file.
